EDITOR’S NOTE: At long last we bring you the Class of 2012 saga! We know you have been waiting for this for a long time, so sit back and enjoy the epic story! Not to worry, we have plans to bring you 2013 in faster fashion! Enjoy!
“We’re not going to make it!”
Tallstar ducked under a low-hanging branch as she sped through the thick Midnight Forest. The trees were fuzzy, dark shapes with sharp fingers that grabbed at her in the darkness. Logically, she knew it was the middle of the day, but the trees were so high and dense that little light made it through, keeping the ground drenched in permanent night. Her gut clenched with panic. They shouldn’t have come this way.
Ahead, Starla and Jewelstar kept a quicker pace. Tallstar glanced behind her, and saw a bright blue explosion to her left.
“They’re still coming!” she yelled.
Starla spared a quick glance backwards. Jewelstar didn’t bother. Tallstar grunted, cursed her sisters under her breath and expanded her legs, lengthening her strides until she was neck and neck with her sisters. Starla was throwing off enough ambient light from her shining form that Tallstar was now able to skip around or over deadwood with ease.
A quick series of explosions battered the trees around them. Starla stopped running. Jewelstar kept up her pace. Tallstar slowed to a jog, weighing her options. Running seemed the smarter course, but she couldn’t leave Starla behind. She slowed and shrunk back down to regular size. She was out of breath and her legs ached from running at such an extended length.
“Jewel!” Tall yelled ahead. Jewelstar glittered briefly and then the darkness swallowed her.
“She’ll be back,” Starla said. She raised her staff and the light from the explosions leapt from the flaming trees. It swarmed around her staff like a swarm of Burnbugs, illuminating the woods.
“Can you see them,” Starla asked.
Tallstar gave the darkness Jewelstar had disappeared into a last look, and then squinted into the darkness where Starla was facing. “I can’t see anything. What are you doing?”
“Giving them a target,” Starla said.
She held her staff high. The light billowed.
“Have you lost your—“ Tallstar didn’t have time to finish her sentence. The Midnight Forest was suddenly bright with laser fire. Tallstar’s reflexes made her jump for cover, but she needn’t have bothered.
Lasers were light. And Starla was the mistress of light.
With a casual nod of her head, the laser bursts formed around her staff, adding their energy to that which she had collected from the explosions. A swirling miasma of energy swooped and swirled around her staff, which was glowing with the strength of a mini-sun and lit up the floor of the Forest. It was as if daylight had finally discovered a passage into the woods.
The laser fire stopped. Tallstar gathered herself and walked up to stand beside her sister. “Are they gone?”
“No, they’re still out there. I can see them now. They’re waiting.” The forest was silent. Tallstar strained her ears and looked past the area lit by her sister’s talents, but saw nothing. Starla’s gaze was fixed.
“Should we…” She began, but her words were cut off by the sudden sounds of laser fire again. But this time it wasn’t aimed at them.
Tallstar cringed as she heard strange, hollow screams, tinny and mechanical in nature. She could make out a phrase here or there–“Behind us!” Or “Over there!”—but the words would quickly be drowned out by other sounds.
Then the forest was still once again.
Starla lowered her staff, which still glowed with an eerie bluish light.
Jewelstar stepped from the shadows. The light sparkled on her crystalline form. Tallstar’s heart leapt. “I thought you left?”
Jewel smirked. “Just circled around,” she tossed something at their feet. It was round and hollow. Tallstar rolled it over with her foot, and saw what was left of a Horde Trooper’s helmet. “They’ve been…neutralized. But there’s bad news,” Jewel said, and reached into the bag she was carrying around her neck. She pulled out a gemstone the size of two fists. It was green and blue, with fiery orange threads winding their way through it. There was a crack right through the center of it. “Must have happened during the fight.”
“I knew I should have kept it with me,” Starla said. She pounded her staff on the ground and the light flickered.
“Can’t we get another,” Tallstar asked hopefully.
Starla shook her head. “Warp Stones don’t grow on trees, Tall. We almost got killed trying to take that one. Adora will be furious.”
“There’s another option,” Jewel said. She shoved the broken stone back in the bag and handed it to Starla. “A warpstone is just a gem, like any other.”
“No,” Starla said.
Tall frowned. “What are you…”
“I can do it. It’s my fault it got broken, I can do it.”
Starla chewed her lip and stared at Jewel. Tall glanced back and forth between her sisters, and then the full realization dawned on her. “Can you do that? Is that even possible?”
Starla and Jewel’s staredown was broken when Starla nodded. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”
Jewel shrugged.
She dropped the bag with the broken warp stone to the ground. “Then we’ll do what we have to, for Adora.”
Jewelstar nodded, and her body began to shift. Her soft skin turned blue and green, shot through with fiery orange threads. Her armor followed. When she had finished her transformation, she was beautiful. Starla pointed her staff. “Looks like you’re going to have to go alone, Tall. Can you handle it?”
The collected light flared from Starla’s staff, and slammed into Jewelstar, who was now a living warp stone. The light refracted through her body, changed, altered, and as it spilled through to the other side, a portal opened up.
“Doesn’t look like I have much choice.”
“Warn them,” Starla said.
Tallstar nodded, and stepped through the portal, leaving Etheria behind. The next ground her foot touched belonged to Eternia.
There was an expression that Tallstar had heard from a few different Etherian elders that she felt was particularly appropriate now: it takes one step to begin a journey, but it takes two steps to ensure the journey has begun. She never really grasped the scope of what that meant until she took the second step she took left behind Etheria, her sisters and everything that had grown familiar since she made landfall on that strange planet.
Her journey had begun. She felt alone.
When she turned to take one last glimpse of the portal she saw nothing but a meadow that stretched in all directions. It was warm. She hoped her sisters would be well.
She gripped her staff and began walking. The sky was cloudless and the sun bore down on her. Sweat soon beaded on her lip and brow. She wiped it away. She cupped a hand over her eyes and squinted ahead. The meadow seemed to slope gently upwards, cresting ahead. She hoped she reached some type of village soon. Her legs were still aching from her sprint through the forest.
Using her talents, she extended her neck until she could see just over the crest of the hill. Just before the mark of the horizon she saw a small dotting of buildings. She hoped there were people there. Additionally, she hoped they were friendly. She knew so little of this world, but it couldn’t be anything like Etheria. This world held no Horde.
Yet.
As she walked, the sun shifted across the sky and her shadow stretched out beside her as if she was again utilizing her powers. Finally she came upon the village. She scanned for signs of people, but it seemed deserted. Her hopes fell. Etheria was riddled with what they called Hollowtowns. If people had ever lived in them, they had been taken by the horde for slavework…or worse.
Then she heard noise. She listened for the source of the noise, and was able to narrow it down to a building ahead. She approached it carefully, her nerves jangling. A simple wooden sign hung over the door. The word “INN” was scrawled across it in jagged white lettering. The voices inside sounded excited or angry, she couldn’t tell which.
Then the door broke open and a man flew from it.
She let out a yelp of surprise and backed away as the man slid across the dirt. She backed away and gripped her staff, but the man seemed not to notice her. She got a glimpse of a bearded face, tense but also slightly amused. From the Inn, another man appeared, his exit far less tumultuous, but no less impressive. He must have been 7 or 8 feet tall at minimum, such that he had to nearly fold himself in half to keep from knocking his head on the doorframe.
The man in the dirt began to pick himself up. Her view of him was obscured by his wide back and large shoulders. While he was nowhere near the size of the man exiting the inn, he looked sturdy.
“Very rude,” the bearded man said, and wiped the dust from his arms. His hands dropped to his side. At first Tallstar thought the man was holding some type of melee weapon in his hand, until she realized the hand itself was the weapon. A large metal fist three or more times the size of a normal hand hung from the man’s arm. He glanced behind him and caught sight of Tallstar. He closed one eye in a quick wink. “Milady.”
The taller man advanced on him. He was bald, with large eyes, and his mouth bristled with short sharp teeth. His skin was slightly orange in hue. “You’re a cheat!”
“I won fair and square,” the bearded man said. The tall man stopped and he looked back at the door to the Inn and laughed. A small crowd had gathered. Some of them looked very similar to the taller man. They joined in with his laughter.
“The rule was no weapons.” the much taller man said.
“And I used none.”
The tall man gestured towards the bearded one’s hand. “Take it off.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t take it off. It’s a…gift from my dear departed grandmother. Been in the family for ages. You wouldn’t want me to lose it and break my poor grandmother’s heart, would you?”
The tall man advanced. Fisto held up both hands.
“Okay, okay, a rematch then? I’ll use my other hand. That’s my weaker arm. Come now, that’s more than fair.”
The tall man glanced at the bearded one’s normal hand, and then nodded. “Agreed.”
The bearded man glanced back to Tallstar. “Small arm-wrestling challenge, beautiful one. I’ll return in a moment.”
They disappeared back into the inn. Tallstar considered following them in to watch what was surely about to be a bloodbath, but she held back.
Before she was able to decide on a course of action, the bearded man was sent flying from the Inn again. He slammed into the ground and skidded to a halt at her feet.
“That man really hates to lose,” he said. Tallstar put a hand over her mouth to cover a smile. Then the taller man rushed out of the Inn, his teeth bared. He didn’t duck this time, and the doorframe was shattered into splinters on contact with his head.
“You cheated again! I’ll kill you!” He roared as he bore down on the man with the metal hand.
The bearded man stood and curled large metal fingers into a fist. The tall man bellowed his red-faced anger and then the metal fist sailed easily into his face. In the span of an eyeblink the man was flat on the ground.
The tall man’s compatriots in the Inn hesitated for a second, as if unable to believe what they saw, and then they too rushed out.
The bearded, metal-fisted man glanced backwards at Tallstar and shrugged. Then he waded into a gang of five 8-foot-tall behemoths as if they were children.
A metal fist clanged against a thick jaw. The bones of a fleshy fist crunched as they slammed into a large metal palm, and hard unyielding fingers clamped down on them. The fight was fast, and entirely one sided. The sound of that huge fist striking meat and bone was dense and thick, and it clung to her guts like thick porridge.
And then the fight was done. The bearded man was barely breathing heavily. Wounded or unconscious men lay around him.
“Now then,” The bearded man said, turning to give Tallstar his full attention. “Did you require assistance?”
Tallstar couldn’t take her eyes off the refuse he had left behind him in the street. “What did these men ever do to you?”
Fisto glanced at the men lying in the street. “Oh, them? These are barely men, milady. They are the offspring of a creature called the Glorm. This is not the first town they’ve terrorized. It’s best to let them know every once in a while there’s always somebody higher on the food chain, so to speak.”
“I’ve come seeking a great warrior named He-man. Would you be him, by any chance?”
The bearded man tossed back his head and laughed. “I’m far better looking, but he is a friend of mine. He is the one who slayed their father.” He removed a rag from his belt and wiped a spot of blood from his metal fist. “But he had it coming.”
“Would you know where to find him?”
He returned the rag to his belt. His fist gleamed where it had been polished. He eyes were deliberate and focused, but she sensed to malice in them. “Not exactly, but I know someone who may be able to get his attention.” He looked her up and down, taking in her bright clothing for the first time. “These are not the clothes of a traveler. You are not from these lands?”
She shook her head, and gestured towards his fist. “Did you really get that from your grandmother?”
He laughed again, a full rich laugh devoid of caution. “I never knew my grandmother. No, I found this in…the heart of a volcano.”
“Is that the truth?”
He smiled and gestured for her to follow. “Truth is myth and myth is reality to those who believe, my dear. Come, Grayskull is a ways away.”
“And someone in this…Grayskull…can lead me to He-man?”
“Without question.”
———————–
Before the Horde, Etheria had been a planet of light. But after Hordak and his followers subjugated the world, the light faded. The hope of light was something that had been taken from the free people of the world. Though the days were just as long as before and the sun was just as bright, a great darkness hovered just behind the light. And it was a universal truth that the stronger the light, the darker the shadows.
Only one among Hordak’s faithful wore those awful shadows like a second skin. The rest of the Horde—fearsome creatures whose horrible deeds would fill volumes—left her alone, and only sought her out when commanded to do so, and even then never alone.
Shadow Weaver’s name was a whispered taunt between frightened children. “Don’t stay out too late, or the Shadow Weaver will get you,” the children would say. And their parents would wear worried faces when they overheard their children’s words, while they paid tribute to Horde officers to keep their homes safe.
If the Weaver cared about her reputation, she kept it to herself. Unlike Grizzlor, she didn’t care to frighten the weak. Unlike Leech, she didn’t yearn to feed on the strong. Unlike Catra, she didn’t seek to dominate the willful. And unlike Hordak, she didn’t care to rule a planet, or several planets, or dozens of planets.
Her goals were far worse, and known only to her.
Shadow Weaver noticed Hordak’s mood shifting subtly over the course of the past few days. While she would never think of him as even-tempered, his mood had grown darker still, until she believed he may vaporize any who crossed him. Though she did not fear him, she remained cautious when she was called to his side from the bowels of the Fright Zone.
Hordak sat at his throne and drummed his fingers as she floated and waited. She knew he was aware of her presence, but he was content to let her wait. The sound of his fingers kept shifting as they drummed the arm of his throne. Subtle transformations were happening in his fingers. Hordak was both bio-mechanical and magical in nature. He was a bizarre hybrid of the two that, in her extensive probing into the dark arts, should not have been possible. Magic is dulled by technology, and technology does not cleave well to magic.
“His ship is already halfway here.” Hordak finally said. “I can…almost hear them.” He tilted his head and closed dark eyes. “The grinding of supraluminal warp engines shrugging off the vacuum of space. The shuddering of black hole containment units generating the energy to power his insane ship, closing the distance from Hordeworld to here.”
He held up a fist. A fist became a hammer. A hammer became a sword. A sword became a fist. “I can almost hear them.”
Shadow Weaver floated and said nothing.
Hordak seemed distracted by his own fist as it clenched and unclenched. “In millennia he has never voyaged beyond Hordeworld. You know what this means?”
Shadow Weaver thought it best to remain silent. She had long ago learned when Hordak wanted a give and take, and when he only wanted an audience.
He clenched his fist. It became a cannon. A cannon became a mace. A mace became a trident. A trident became a fist.
“He means to take a more active role. Etheria is not enough, he will say. I should have procured Eternia for him, he will say. Eternia, and its secrets. Etheria is not enough.”
“What will you do?”
Hordak brought his fist down. When it landed on the arm of his chair it was a hammer again. Then he spread his fingers and gripped the arms edge.
“The same thing I have done for centuries piled on centuries: deliver any—any–who oppose or threaten me to the void, without exception.” He stood. “I have heard it said that Horde Prime and I are of a blood. That we are father and son, or brothers, or any odd permutation of familial tie you can think of. As if the likes of us could be pulled womb-weak into this universe to mewl and beg for succor. I am Hordak. I owe my existence to none but myself, and I will not be erased.”
Hordak’s rage was growing. Shadow Weaver retreated half a pace. She lowered her raspy voice. “Will you warn the Eternian?”
“I have been in contact with Skeletor. My former pupil is already no doubt taking measures to protect his interests. Now, are there any more questions, witch?”
“No, Lord Hordak.”
“Gather the rest. Horde Prime’s landfall will be within a cycle. I want them ready.”
————
Snake Mountain loomed in the distance. Half a mile away, a shape crouched behind a charred boulder.
A lens adjusted. Snake Mountain was now close enough to touch. Someone else was walking through the entrance to Snake Mountain. Photog shuffled through his databanks.
“Are you receiving?” Photog said in a soft, flat tone. It seemed as if he was speaking to the empty space around him. “Mer-Man has just arrived.”
A voice chirped from the transmitting circuitry built into his unique head. “How long has this been going on?”
“Most of the day. They’ve been arriving regularly. I’m sending you the data now,” Photog then sent the day’s worth of visual recordings.
The other end of the communicator was silent. Photog continued recording. He waited as Man-At-Arms sifted through the footage Photog had recorded during his reconnaissance of Snake Mountain.
“These are nearly all of Skeletor’s top men.” Man-At-Arms said finally over the comm. “Plus some freelance mercenaries I’m somewhat familiar with. A few of these I don’t know at all.”
“Skeletor appears to be amassing an army. Would you like me to see if I can acquire audio?”
“No, too dangerous. Skeletor’s bound to have guards.”
“With respect, sir, my existence is less important than knowledge. If I can learn…”
Man-At-Arms cut him off. “None of that ‘less important’ stuff, Photog. You’re not a research drone anymore.”
Photog fell silent. He was having difficulty processing things in this new existence. He had records—what the humans seemed to call memories–of his time aboard Captain Glenn’s ship, but those memories seemed very detached, like archived data that had been overwritten by other information.
He had never had an attachment to data before. He never felt anything before. Never learned, never grew, never initiated his own series of circumstances. Now, he was more. Something crunched to his right. He lifted his weapon.
He had time to see the flare of a laser. Though he didn’t feel any pain from it, his sensors registered that the laser fire had blown a hole through his abdominal wall, injuring a mass of circuitry there, including his gyros. As he tried to get up, he tipped backwards and fell flat on his back.
Rocks crunched. A heavy metal footfall stepped closer. Photog’s lens attempted to focus, but couldn’t.
A putrid green face braced with a metal jaw loomed over him. “What in blazes are you supposed to be?”
Photog’s databanks searched for this creature’s identity and landed on a match: Trap Jaw.
The creature brought up the laser rifle that had taken the place of his right hand and tapped the glass on Photog’s lensface. His brows lowered over cruel, beady eyes. “Can you see me in there?”
Photog’s vocal processor seemed to have sustained collateral damage when the laser burst through his abdominal wall. He had already initiated auto-repairs but the damage was too great.
“Robots.” Trap Jaw grunted. “I hate robots.” Photog pivoted his head just enough to see his attacker shake his head and remove the laser rifle that served as his arm. Two more arms hung by his side. With a click he detached a hook from his belt and snapped it into place. He gave it a quick twist and a light blinked on his arm.
“See, whenever I see a robot, all they do is remind me of how much I’ve lost, and how much I’m like them. And that just puts me in a real bad mood.”
He lifted his hook and brought it down. Photog felt the hook pierce the reinforced metal of his shoulder. Then Trap Jaw began to drag him towards Snake Mountain.
“If I had my way, I’d just disintegrate you here and now and forget about you, but Skeletor’s going to want to know why you were spying on his little get-together. So you should feel pretty lucky. If you feel at all.”
Photog pondered his predicament. This, too, was new. If he was capable of fear, he wondered if he would be feeling it now.
Fisto gestured towards the bleak Castle that loomed ahead “We’re here,” he said. Tallstar hesitated. She looked around. The air was still and serene. A discomforting silence lay in a dense shroud around the castle. She was unnerved by the Gigantic skull cut into the dark stone of the castle. More than that; it terrified her. The thought that popped into her head–that the skull not only knew that she was there but had been expecting her–could not be shaken.
“Are you coming?” Fisto asked.
“I expected…something different, I suppose. The castles on Etheria are nothing like that. They are bright, and beautiful. They are jeweled like my sister. Bright spots on a dark world. That looks more like a place Hordak himself would feel at home.”
Fisto nodded. “Grayskull does not look friendly, true, but the woman who dwells inside is that bright spot you spoke of.”
They approached the castle. No guards. No sign of life. The mouth of the skull held the gate clamped tight in its jaw. “How are we going to get in?” She said, and was startled when steel chains clanked and the jawbridge began to lower.
From the shadows inside the skull’s mouth, a woman stepped forward that gave truth to Fisto’s words. She was resplendent in color and seemed to be glowing from some internal light that staved off the shadows. Tallstar believed she could easily fit in on Etheria, with their fanciful manner of dress.
They crossed the bridge to the woman, who waited just inside the castle’s entrance. “The Sorceress,” Fisto said by way of introduction. Tallstar began to introduce herself but there was no need.
“Tallstar,” the Sorceress said.” I sensed your arrival on Eternia.” Her voice was soft, her manner almost shy. But Tallstar felt a palpable sense of power emanating from the woman. Coming from a family of strong sisters and a planet that held the likes of She-ra, Castaspella, Frosta, and many more, she was no stranger to powerful women. They all wielded enormous power with casual grace, but she believed the Sorceress would dwarf them all. But there was no hint of it in the way she walked, or the way she held her body. No threat. There was only…sadness. A profound sadness that seemed to clutch at each syllable she spoke, each step she took. Tallstar’s heart broke for this woman she had known for only seconds, and she didn’t know why.
The sorceress motioned for them to follow. Behind them, the drawbridge lifted back into place. “Thank you for bringing her, Fisto.”
“My pleasure,” Fisto said. “She’s looking for He-man. Not sure why when she has me around, but there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.”
The Sorceress said as she led them down the corridor. “I have warned He-man that he is needed at Grayskull. I’m sorry your sisters could not join you.”
Tallstar shivered. “How do you know about my sisters?
The Sorceress brought them to the throne room of the castle. A large, ornate chair sat at the head of a set of stone steps. “A man named Zodac told me about the Star Sisters long ago.”
“You know Zodac?”
“He’s a friend.” She tilted her head and gave a small smile. “Sometimes.”
Tallstar’s mind was reeling. She and her sisters had met Zodac long, long ago, before their imprisonment.
“I know I’m not He-man,” Fisto said, scratching at his beard, “but maybe somebody could tell me what’s going on?”
Tallstar took a breath. “There’s a creature on Etheria, a friend of the rebellion named Loo-kee. Occasionally he brings us tidbits of things he’s overheard at various Horde outposts. Sort of…an unofficial spy for the rebellion. While we always appreciate the information he brings us, Adora has always told him never to go near the Fright Zone, that it wasn’t worth the risk. But Loo-kee’s willful, and two cycles ago he made it all the way inside to Hordak’s chambers. He said it was on a dare.” Tallstar laughed nervously. “The little guy somehow managed to listen in on a transmission from Hordak to Horde Prime.”
The Sorceress raised an eyebrow. “Horde Prime? By the Gods. Could Loo-kee see him?”
“No. He only heard his voice. A horrible voice, Loo-kee said. The race he belongs to is slightly empathic. He said that Hordak seemed almost afraid, or as afraid as someone like Hordak can ever be, I suppose. Loo-Kee said Horde Prime was coming to do what Hordak had been unable to do.”
Sorceress leaned on her staff. The sadness Tallstar sensed had been replaced now with a great sense of fatigue. Fisto plucked at his beard and stared at the floor.
The moment passed and the Sorceress once again drew herself to her full height. “So be it. Tallstar will stay with me and await He-man’s arrival. Fisto, warn whomever you can. Eternia will be under Horde attack.”
——
Snake Mountain was becoming unbearable, but it was a necessary evil. The scum of Eternia had been arriving all day, and the onslaught had yet to end. Most were either Skeletor’s henchmen or those who had come highly recommended. Others he only knew from secondhand stories. A few he didn’t know at all. Evil Lyn had put out word as soon as Skeletor heard from Hordak. His mind had been racing since then.
Skeletor had long ago grown tired of the Horde. He had known for some time that he would one day have need to defend his rightful claim on Eternia from his old mentor. Hordak was transparent, and had never lost his taste for Grayskull and the secrets it held. But those secrets were to be Skeletor’s. Eternia would not be subsumed by the Horde.
If Horde Prime was bringing an army, he would find an army waiting.
When Trap Jaw dragged the robot in and laid him at Skeletor’s feet limp and broken, Skeletor knew that this was his brother’s handiwork. His anger flared. Randor was always meddling. “Was it transmitting?”
Trap jaw shrugged. “I don’t know. I…”
He was cut off by the sounds of a fight. Skeletor seethed and waved Trap Jaw away. He wasn’t surprised. When this many men and beasts of questionable backgrounds came together, it was inevitable a fight would break out. He had been expecting it. An example would be made.
The crowd parted as he strode forward. The crowd had begun to chant and call for blood, but they fell silent as Skeletor passed.
He saw the nucleus of the disturbance as he broke through.
A well-tattooed man jabbed a finger and barked a string of curses. Spittle flung from his mouth.
“We don’t need snakes here!”
Skeletor looked to where the man pointed. Kobra Khan stood at the other end of the invectives, arms folded, green skin shining by the light of the torches flickering on the wall.
A few other men glared at him hatefully. Skeletor sensed the anger in the room. It only took one man to incite a mob.
Khan was a Snake man. Even with the variety of races found on Eternia, the Snake Men were the most reviled. It was little surprise, considering their history. When Khan had been the only Snake Man left, he had readily joined with Skeletor, eager to be part of something again. But when Hiss returned, bringing his legion with him, Skeletor had sent Khan with Hiss to spy on the Snakes and report back to him. Skeletor knew it would only be a matter of time before Hiss tried to reclaim his one-time hold over Eternia.
Khan did not budge as the man taunted him.
“Nobody here wants snakes among us. Am I right?”
The crowd cheered.
“Oughta gut you for thinkin’ you can stand among us. Filthy belly-crawler. Go back to your hole!”
Skeletor’s patience was at and end and he was about to disintegrate the fool when the man took a step towards Khan. He had pulled a knife from a sheath strapped to his leg.
Khan didn’t bother moving. His slitted eyes narrowed slightly, and then his hood flared. A stream of acid shot from his mouth, and splashed against the man’s face.
The knife clattered to the floor. The man’s screams silenced the room. Khan’s hood retracted. Skeletor watched the man writhe. Skeletor remembered what acid felt like as it ate the flesh from one’s face. If he were any other being he may have shuddered in sympathy.
The man’s screams stopped. He lay on the floor motionless. The crowd shifted nervously. The men who had joined the dead man in his taunts blended back into the crowd as Khan glared at them. When he moved through the crowd nobody looked directly at him. Tri-Klops was wearing a smug smirk. Skeletor turned and beckoned Kobra Khan with a wave of his hand. He led Khan to an empty room of black stone where they could have privacy.
Skeletor flicked his hand and the door closed behind them. “You spoke to Hiss?”
“There’s one thing Hiss hates more than you, and that’s the Horde. If Horde Prime makes landfall on Eternia you will have the Snake men for allies.”
“Small comfort.”
Skeletor watched Kobra Khan’s eyes twitch for an instant, but he said nothing. Khan’s loyalties were as slithery as he was. Skeletor knew it was only a matter of time before Khan’s nature won out.
Khan ignored Skeletor’s jab and pressed on. “And the human King? Will you approach him?”
“Randor has already sent his spies. If he is unaware, that is his own ignorance. And his own death.”
Skeletor turned to leave when Snake Mountain shook.
———-
The scum milling in his throne room had grown noisy in his absence. Skeletor saw that the dead man had been carted off. His staff clacked on the ground as he strode across the stone. Men and creatures spread as he passed.
Snake Mountain shook once more. Preceding the tremor, Skeletor perceived the faint sound of…
Thunder?
Thunder, or some form of impact. Had Prime made landfall already?
Skeletor shoved a thug from his path and walked to a window carved into the rock. He peered out over the edge. On the ground below, he saw the flicker of lava churning. A tendril of thick smoke wafted through stony outcroppings.
The thunder repeated itself. The mountain shook.
“Meet me below,” he demanded. Evil-Lyn nodded to Beast Man and Tri-Klops and the trio left the throne room.
Skeletor felt the throne room fall away and he was at the gates to Snake Mountain. The thunder repeated itself yet again, and he was nearly knocked to the ground by the force of it.
He strode to the gate. It opened for him, and he saw Whiplash lying unconscious outside the perimeter. Skeletor growled low in his chest and looked around.
“Show yourself.” Skeletor ordered.
“I knew that would get your attention,” He-man said. He moved from behind a large charred rock, rubbing his fist in his palm. His armor was different. Gone was the slate gray, replaced with a brilliant red and silver. Skeletor sensed power coming off him in waves. Skeletor was always able to sense the connection He-man had to the magics inside Castle Grayskull; he carried them around him in an aura so strong that it was nearly visible. But Skeletor had never registered the power as strongly as it was now.
“A simple knock on the gate would have sufficed,” Skeletor said. He gestured towards Whiplash. “No need for theatrics.”
“You know why I’m here.”
Skeletor turned as Evil-Lyn and his henchmen showed. He shook his head and gestured for them to return. A furrow grew over Evil Lyn’s brow but she waved them back inside.
“Enlighten me.”
“You’re holding a friend inside. Don’t make me come in after him.”
Skeletor laughed. “You may be surprised by what you find inside.”
He-man slammed his fist into his palm in a short and swift gesture. Skeletor felt the shockwave from that small action where he stood. Damn the brute for being even stronger than ever.
Skeletor tapped the ground and the robot appeared between them. “Take him then. I have no time to dance.”
He-man glanced down and his face grew dark at the damage he saw.
“Trap Jaw was…overzealous.”
He-man glared at Skeletor. His lip curled. Skeletor watched the muscles in his jawline dance with some satisfaction. He expected He-man to attack, but instead he knelt and picked up the robot. He hefted him over his shoulder and began to walk away.
“You have heard what’s coming?” Skeletor called out to He-man’s back.
He-man stopped. “I have. I was on my way to Grayskull.”
“Eternia is my planet as well. I’ve already enlisted the help of Hiss and his legion. Maybe you’d like to throw in as well?”
“I can protect Eternia without stooping so low.”
Skeletor’s rage bubbled at He-man’s casual dismissal, but it was only what he expected. His arrogance was all too typical. He-man began walking away from him again. “You have no clue what kind of fight you’re in for, barbarian.”
He-man didn’t respond. The fool turns his back on Skeletor? Skeletor raised his staff. It would be so easy to disintegrate the muscle-bound freak here and now.
He lowered his staff. He watched He-man fade into the mist and smoke. Lava churned beyond black, blasted rock.
“You should kill him…” a low voice said from behind him. If he had meant to startle Skeletor, it had not succeeded.
“I may have use for him.”
“I’d kill him.”
“I did not seek your counsel. You brought what I wanted?” Skeletor asked, and turned to find Draego-man standing on a stony outcropping across a threshold of molten rock.
Draego-man held up a leather sack. Something quivered inside it. The half-breed dragon’s wings flapped once and carried him across a churning lavabed. Flames licked at his leathery crimson skin without effect. He handed over the sack. Something inside it screeched. Skeletor peered inside.
“I’m impressed. And nobody followed you?”
Draego-Man shook his fluted head. He snorted. Fire burst from the corner of his mouth. “None that matter anymore. I don’t know what you intend to do with it. Dragon magic has never been easily harnessed by your kind. Many have tried. He has never allowed it.”
“He?”
“I will not speak his name.”
“Ahh. Yes. Nevertheless. I am not like any of my kind.” Skeletor lifted the satchel. “There are not many new experiences left for me. I am almost looking forward to this.”
“As you say. Are we done here?”
“For now. I may have need of you in the coming battle? What do the Dragons think of the Horde?”
“I neither speak for them, nor do I wish to. I know Dragonkind cares little for which human rules this planet. Human, snake, Horde: all the same. If the Dragon King is threatened, he will retaliate.”
Skeletor found this unsurprising. Randor believed Eternia to be united, but its fractures were becoming more obvious as time moved on. Randor was soft. A unifying hand was what this planet needed. Action was called for.
Subjugation for all was the only way to unify Eternia for its own good.
“I would be careful how reckless you are with what I gave you. He will find out. And he will not be happy.”
“I harbor no fear of your dragon king.”
“Then you are a fool,” Draego-Man said. His wings began to beat, and he took to the sky.
——
Man-At-Arms’s expression was grim when he-man returned. He tugged at his mustache and then smoothed it, pacing back and forth. He-man laid Photog across the nose of the Raider and Duncan began to scan him for signs of life. He grunted when he saw the damage.
“Is he repairable?”
Man-At-Arms sighed. “Won’t be able to tell until I get him back to the lab. The damage is fairly severe. He’s managed to shunt his core systems into redundant modules. Basically, he’s gone into a coma. Or the robotic version of it. At least we got him back. I still regret what happened with Faker. What’s happening with your sword?”
He-man pulled the Power Sword from its scabbard. It was glowing a low and luminous yellow. “I don’t know. It’s been like this since I changed. Usually it glows like this as I shift from Adam to He-man, but the glow fades with the lightning. It’s as if the flow of power from Grayskull hasn’t cut off.”
“That would explain the power increase. Are you headed to Grayskull now?”
“I’ve kept the sorceress waiting long enough. Be careful Duncan. Skeletor has teamed with the Snake Men. We’ve never dealt with their combined threat, nor do we know what to expect with Horde Prime.”
Duncan shook his head and strapped Photog to the nose of the Raider. “I don’t much like thinking about the kind of power we’re dealing with if this Prime is somebody that Hordak answers to.”
Duncan gave He-man a quick wave and then his Wind Raider settled into the air. He-man watched it until it was a dot and then moved to board his own Raider.
His nerves tingled. He ignored it for a second but then the feeling of being watched was too strong. In a swift motion he drew his sword and spun, but there was nothing to meet him but air. Snake Mountain loomed over the horizon. Must be this place getting to him.
He returned sword to scabbard, scanning his surroundings, the feeling of being watched gnawing at him.
When he turned, the engine of his Wind Raider had been gutted. “What in blazes…”
He ran a hand along a deep gouge that had been heat-blasted as if with a laser or hot blade. Some of the engine had been fused together.
He turned to the wind. “Show yourself.”
A foot crunched gravel. He-man turned and brought his glowing blade to the throat of a masked man. “And who are you, diamond eyes?”
The masked man put his hands to his side. “Easy. I’m a friend. But I could not allow you to go to Grayskull.”
“Could not allow?” He-man grabbed a fistful of wires. “When did you have time to do this?”
The masked man barked laughter. “Time is a lot larger than you think.”
He-man pushed his sword closer on the man’s throat. But then he was gone, in an eyeblink. He-man’s equilibrium twisted. He spun to face the masked man standing behind him, arms still by his sides, palms open.
“In ten minutes, if your Wind Raider was in working order, you would have been at Castle Grayskull. In twelve minutes you would have been inside Grayskull, and talking with the Sorceress and the offworlder named Tallstar.
“In fifteen minutes Horde Prime drops an impenetrable force field around Castle Grayskull, trapping you and the sorceress inside the Castle. Horde Prime and his legion make landfall in 16 minutes. In a day’s time Eternia is overrun by Horde warriors. In three days, Skeletor’s men—weak willed as they are—quickly become part of the Horde. Skeletor and King Randor are killed. To save his own shedding skin, King Hiss relinquishes control of the Snake Men to Horde Prime. The Snake Horde is born.
“On the fourth day a wormhole is opened between Eternia, Etheria and Hordeworld. The Rebellion on Etheria is crushed. Your sister’s dead body is hung at the top of the Fright Zone.
“At the end of the fifth day, the force field around Grayskull is dropped. You, the Sorceress, Tallstar and the Power of Grayskull are alone against an entire empire of Horde. You are the last to fall. Horde Prime claims the secrets buried inside the Castle and declares this entire universe Horde Property. Horde Prime becomes Master of the Universe.
“But now that future will not come to pass. Because your Wind Raider is broken.”
He-man’s head spun with what the masked man told him. “How do you know all this? How do I know this is true?”
“Time is a book, He-man. Most people are content to live it page by page. I tend to like to skip to the end. You learn a lot of fascinating stuff that way.” The masked man tapped a few buttons on the device on his wrist. “Events are changing rapidly. The outcome now may be vastly different than it could have been. But the universe still needs saving, something only you are capable of. You have time now.”
Between eyeblinks He-man found himself alone again. He looked to the sky and ground his clenched fists.
—–
Skeletor found himself growing irritated with the din in his throne room. If he didn’t get away, he knew he would end up killing someone, and he needed every able body he could find to fight or die on his behalf. So he handed off the package Draego-Man had delivered and retreated to a room where he could find some solitude.
He found a dimly lit room and went to the small window. He stared at the sky.
Horde Prime taking notice of Eternia was not part of any plan he could have conceived. This was an affront to the games that he had well-established on this little planet. The Horde had spent their chance long ago.
The walls lit up with a bright flash of light. Skeletor was about to spew his rage at whatever fool was bothering him, but he turned to find a face he didn’t recognize.
The creature was humanoid, with a domed head filled with liquid. A pair of appendages twitched behind them. A weapon was attached to his belt.
“I bring you greetings, Skeletor of Eternia, once Keldor of the Royal Family of Eternia, once Demo-Man of the Dark realm. I am Horde Prime emissary Slush Head.”
“You are Horde? You do not wear the Horde brand.”
The creature folded his hands behind his back. “Horde Prime thinks it best for the emissary to be free of such symbolism. It facilitates less…apprehension.”
“Apprehension. Yes.” Skeletor laughed derisively.
“Nevertheless, consider me the voice of Horde Prime,” Slush Head said. His tentacles slithered in and out of view. They looked fast and lethal.
“I would rather not waste words with flunkies. Tell me, does Horde Prime fear me?”
“That is…quite unlikely. I only bring an offer.”
“I see. State your offer quickly and then remove yourself from my presence.”
“Horde Prime thinks you could be a valuable asset to the Horde Empire. He believes that your subjugation would be unnecessary, and extends the offer of joining him. How would Skeletor of Eternia like to be Hordak of the Horde Empire.”
“And what of the true Hordak?”
“The Prime one is…displeased with his progress. He rests on one world when the universe is filled with worlds to conquer.”
“So I would be Horde Prime’s what, exactly…second-in-command?”
“You would be his sword. You would bring entire planets to the Horde Empire. You would wage war on a scale that you may have trouble comprehending. And you would be immortal. Your dominion would extend not only over Eternia: eternity would be yours.”
Skeletor gauged the weight of the creature’s words carefully. If there was trickery involved, Skeletor could not sense it. He knew the ways of the Horde well enough that he sensed this was no ruse. The offer was genuine. Horde Prime had chosen him.
“There is no time for deliberation, demon lord. Horde Prime would have your answer now. What will it be?”
Skeletor nodded. He walked back and forth on the hard stone floor. His staff clicked and clacked with each step.
“This is a great opportunity. I could have my revenge against He-man, and my brother. I can imagine the Sorceress in chains. I can imagine myself at the throne of Grayskull. I can imagine the universe trembling at my name.”
Slush Head smiled. “Then I have your answer?”
Skeletor held up a finger. “I can imagine all of that, save for one small detail.”